Against the Clock
by ZealousPhoenix245
Summary: After being transported "accidentally-on-purpose" to Divinity's Reach by Hermaeus Mora, the Dragonborn takes the chance to begin her life anew. Unfortunately, Vienele's mantle as a vanquisher of evils can't really seem to leave her alone. She never wanted to be a hero, but fate can't be outrun for long. Warnings: Mild Skyrim and some GW2 Human storyline spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**Against the Clock: A Guild Wars 2 and TES V: Skyrim Crossover**

By: ZealousPhoenix245

Disclaimer: I don't own GW2 or Skyrim - all rights go to their respective peoples. I only own any original characters that I may employ for the purposes of this story. If I owned either, Queen Jennah would be very much dead (I don't like her - bad vibes and all) and there wouldn't be a blasted civil war that gives me too much of a headache than I'd like to admit.

Quick Author's Note: Okay, I'll be the first to admit that this story is a guilty indulgence of mine. I've been dreaming of a GW2 an Skyrim crossover since I started playing GW2, and haven't been able to think of a decent enough plot until now. As of now, my other Skyrim story, Honor Bound, is on hiatus so can rework the chapters. I don't like how they were written at all and am itching to edit them. Anyway, I seriously do NOT like how this chapter started out, but I can't think of a better way to start it, so it'll have to do. And, please, no flames because I don't make Thackeray out to be an annoying prick (GW2 is the only thing in the Guild Wars realm that I've ever read/played, so I have no clue what the heck he did that made everyone hate him so much). There's a reason for this. So, lay off, please?

Anyway, I'll give you the full summary and let you get on with it, m'kay?

* * *

**Summary**: After being transported "accidentally-on-purpose" to Divinity's Reach by Hermaeus Mora, the Dragonborn takes the chance to begin her life anew. Unfortunately, Vienele's mantle as a vanquisher of evils can't quite seem to leave her alone, and she finds herself struggling across the world of Tyria to destroy a foe long thought defeated. There's a traitor in their midst, and it becomes a race against time to separate who is foe from friend. She never wanted to be a hero, but fate can't be outrun for long. **_Warnings_**: Dragonborn main, Thieves' Guild, main, and VERY mild College of Winterhold spoilers.

* * *

If I was honest with myself, I knew I shouldn't have been shocked in the slightest when I awoke in a strange place.

Finding out that I'd been transported to another world left nothing but a dull taste in my mouth of displeasure and mild homesickness, but it wasn't all that bad (and, I really expected nothing less of Hermaeus Mora to throw me somewhere I wasn't supposed to go). The people who had found me on the street, a tavern keeper, Andrew, and his daughter, Petra, were kind and I'd formed a friendship with them. I'd allowed myself time to recuperate and help the two people around their bar before the call of possible riches became too much for me, as it always seemed to. Though the black Thieves' Guild armor had been all but ruined, the soft leather hood had managed to be salvaged, and I had taken to the nighttime streets of Divinity's Reach as soon as possible, Petra and Andrew thankfully never the wiser to my escapades. The weight of the Dragon Priest and Dragonbone daggers felt familiarly comforting, and I relished in it.

The only thing about my new life in this new world of Tyria that I hadn't adapted to as well as I would've liked was the Seraph. Their patrols weren't as lax as the Riften guards (I'd had suspicions that the hulking Nords had been paid off by either Maven or the Guild, but I couldn't be sure)and I'd barely escaped them a few times. A part of me would almost rather have dealt with the Redoran Guard on Solstheim. Lucky enough as I'd been to have passed myself off as being a warrior (the Chitin Armor for herself and Bonemold for Lydia had done wonders), I hadn't had to deal with them save on one occasion, and that was helping them with an Ash Spawn problem. But if what Glover Mallory had said, they weren't to be trifled with under Captain Veleth's command.

Even though events with the Dragon Priest Miraak had kept me busy, I'd never been surer to keep myself from theft.

It was all over and done with, now, though. Solstheim was just a distant memory, the battle between the first and last Dragonborn at the Summit of Apocrypha a nightmare in my past. And, if I was again honest with myself, I felt that my escapades in the past of saving the world twice-over were the reasons why I'd embraced my new life in Divinity's Reach without much question. I'd been aching to start over. It was why I'd joined the Thieves' Guild those years ago, even though they'd been falling apart at the seams (and I'd saved them, too, making me think that my title of "hero" was probably unable to be run from, even if I'd taken to a life of crime) and it was why I'd taken the boat to Morrowind when those Cultists had tried to kill me. It wasn't for opportunity of wealth or fame, it was to don a new persona and perhaps start over as someone else. However, trouble, whether it was Dragonborn related or no, seemed to follow me regardless of where I tried to escape to on Nirn.

Perhaps a new world was just what I needed. No Miraak, no Mercer Frey, no Thieves' Guild, no Alduin, and, more importantly at the time, no world to save. Just a wayward Breton with my daggers, stealth, and precious friends I'd managed to make in the chaos of everything.

The moment I had decided to step out into Shaemoor for the possibility of new chances, however, the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach was more correct than was comfortable. Centaurs were overrunning a garrison by the village and people were cowering in fear. Gritting my teeth, I'd made the decision to help. After all, if these people were dead and their homes in shambles, who did I have to relieve of their hard-earned valuables? The nobles in Divinity's Reach? Several were broke because of my lockpicks and the rest were considerably less influential in the royal court due to lack of proper funds.

That was how I found myself in my current predicament of standing between one of the centaurs (an honest to gods, half-horse, half-man _centaur_) and a pretty blond woman in an icy blue gown, "Back off and pick on someone your own size!" Sure, shouting at the thing probably wouldn't get me anywhere, but who's to say that very same thing (albeit with a bit more…erm…_force_) hadn't gotten me out of many a sticky situation before?

It _could_ be reliable!

Alas, as I'd predicted, the centaur only scowled and charged at me, spear lowered to skewer me through my throat. I only scowled back, dodging to the side as quickly as if I had used Whirlwind Sprint and lodging the sharp Dragonbone dagger in my right hand into the hybrid's breastbone. The beast-man gurgled on blood before slumping over to the side, and my hand absently yanked the carefully crafted blade out of the corpse with a cringe. The black blood would stain the pristine white weapon, I knew. Being more attuned to thieving and not killing, it was the first taste of the life-fluid the dagger had ever experienced.

Ignoring it for the time being, I turned back to the frightened villager, "By Kynareth, woman! What're you waiting for – a golden invitation from the queen? Go to the inn! You'll be safe there!" A brief nod of thanks was my reply as the pretty girl ran off in the direction that I figured I myself should've been heading in. Sucking in a deep breath probably meant to bolster my courage but doing nothing of the sort, I pumped my short Breton legs and followed the path of frantic parents and children. More blood coated my daggers in my absent minded stabs when I passed the ugly hybrid beasts laying waste to the small Krytan village.

Healers swarmed about the inn when I got there, dressed in lavish blue robes and praying to Dwayna but not actually healing anyone. The room lacked the burnt sugar smell of restoration magic and also lacked the bronze glow from healing spells. Only the sharp scent of various pungent herbs pierced my nose as I spotted a Seraph sergeant at the back of the room.

"Sergeant!" a helmed soldier panted as she ran through the door, nearly toppling me in the process, "There are more centaurs on the other side of town! Captain Thackeray's calling for reinforcements at the garrison!"

The woman in the fancy heavy armor that reminded me garishly of elven armor bit her lip, face decidedly worried, "If he's calling for help it must be serious, but I can't spare anyone!" I cringed from beside the steps as the distraught look on her face pulled at my blasted hero-complexed heartstrings. Damn it, I was right where I would be safe! I didn't have to get any more involved than I already was. I'd done my job, paid my debts to the divines. Let someone else help this Seraph captain (and, once again, I held a bit of a grudge against the Seraph) keep the centaurs out of the garrison.

…but…then again…

I heaved a sigh, pushing myself up to my feet already aching at the prospect of what was to come, "I'll go. That I've heard, Captain Thackeray's never failed Divinity's Reach. If I can help, I will."

The relief on the Sergeant's face was nearly palpable, "Balthazar bless you! That's the spirit that'll win this war. Good luck." I wanted to scream at her that her treasonous gods didn't exist and that Akatosh would punish them for their crimes in Aetherius, but I bit my tongue with a nod and rushed out of the inn and back into the chaos that I was supposed to have nothing to do with.

Once more my Dragonbone dagger found itself mournfully stained with Centaur blood, and my Dragon Priest dagger in turn found itself becoming duller for each beast it felled with a sharp jab through a tough skin. The way to the garrison was not a long path from the inn, and within no time I found myself stuck outside the closed doors fighting with a few other people and guards. A woman casting strange green magic stood to my right, a Necromancer in Tyria, and a man in a strange coat with a myriad of things on his back to my left. He was an Engineer, a class I wasn't familiar with, and his weapons were definitely years beyond anything on Nirn.

I managed to cast a few fire runes without anyone really noticing it was me, and took out my fair share of centaurs before the doors opened once again, "Rally to Captain Thackeray!" It was all I needed to hear. Agile as I always was, I pushed ahead of the nameless Engineer and Necromancer.

Captain Thackeray was of the Guardian class, if I wasn't mistaken (I still cringed at Tyria's class system, much preferring the more flexible one of Nirn but understanding the limitations all the same)and was about a head taller than myself. Not that his height was strange, considering that I was a Breton and most towered over me, but it still irked me. His armor again reminded me of a twisted version of elven armor, much like the rest of the Seraph. There were many a rumor that he had relations with Queen Jennah, but I wasn't about to believe any of it without proof. I knew what it was like to be at the forefront of gossipers, and I'd be the first to vouch that it was not fun. Hence, I tried to avoid doing it myself.

I slid to a stop beside him, noting the strange look that my daggers got me, "Captain." I greeted quietly with a nod, eyes focused on the incoming wave of centaurs. My mind was quick calculating. There were a lot. Probably too many, but with the guards and few others that had shown up to help, I hoped that we could take them without me having to use the Thu'um.

"Here they come!" a soldier cried, and then total chaos erupted. I gave a sharp yell and charged, leaping around centaurs and stabbing, slashing, and parrying where I could. A few discreet Rally spells left my fingertips, but I tried to avoid magic to disperse any questions that may've arisen. The last thing that I needed was people asking about why I was using magic when my class was obviously a thief.

I flung my Dragon Priest dagger, the golden metal glinting in the dying sunlight as it embedded itself in the throat of a Tamini Archer, my third of the afternoon. Said hybrid beast fell over dead with a wet gurgle, but I didn't have time to retrieve my weapon when a blade nearly decapitated me. I deftly thought I heard Captain Thackeray yelling something about having the centaurs off balance, but I couldn't be sure. I tucked into a roll, adrenaline ringing in my ears, and feinted left. With its guard down, it didn't take much to lodge my remaining weapon into the beast's chest and slash it across its gut for good measure. Blood gruesomely speckling my face, I gave a sigh of relief and turned to seek a new target, only to find that the last of the wave was already being taken care of.

"Soldier!" Thackeray's voice called from my right. Curious, I turned and had just enough time to catch my bronze dagger. I nodded my thanks to the Seraph, being forced to flick back a few strands of black hair that had managed to escape the braid I'd messily thrown it into.

More thunders of hooves on stone trembled along the ground, "Get ready! There's another wave coming!" A voice from the front of the group shouted, and I grinned deviously, twirling my blades around in my hands and even going so far as to toss one in the air and catch it without glancing in its direction. The haze of a good battle was rushing through my brain, and I was beginning to realize how much I'd actually missed running something sharp across the flesh of beings less than human.

Well, my mother always did say I was a malicious child.

"For the Tamini!" A centaur yelled, swinging a spear at my right arm. I brought the dagger so generously salvaged by Thackeray to parry, using the small bit of leverage to duck under the wide-range weapon and leave a fine line cut from ear to ear on the warrior's throat. Smiling in satisfaction, I used the acrobatics training I'd garnered in the Imperial City and did a flip onto the back of one of the Tamini Archers. I wrapped my arms around it's achingly human-esque shoulders, my smile dying down to a mischievous grin.

As it was unable to use its arms due to the backwards bear hug I'd engulfed it in, the centaur dropped its longbow and howled in rage, "What is the meaning of this, human?!"

I giggled, holding tighter as it tried to buck me off, "Oh, I could think of a few things. Your downfall is the one thing that prominently comes to mind, though." My daggers ripped open what I supposed was meant to be the abdomen of the Centaur's human half before it could form a coherent reply. I leaped off its back as the shock crumpled it to the ground. Before I could finish it off, though, a shot from the Engineer pierced its skull. As I went to nod in thanks, though, the man fell to the ground. His head rolled to my feet, and I winced. Decapitation was a nasty way to go. I probably shouldn't have been criticizing the enemy, though, for doing the same thing I'd done to one of their own a few moments ago, but I didn't care.

Who knew I had such bloodlust? Brynjolf would be _so_ proud…

"They're backing off!" Captain Thackeray yelled over the sound of parrying blades and the twanging of bows, "Keep pushing!" Sure enough, the herd was thinning, but a feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that it wasn't because of the Seraph and the little band of helpers.

I offed a few more Centaurs, casting one final Rally spell and watching the, no pun intended, magical boost in the morale of Seraph around me. Just the night before I'd been thieving from a Nobleman's house in the city and running from these blokes. Now here I was helping them drive back their mortal enemy.

Oh, irony, how I _hadn't_ missed you.

"Enough of this; I will deal with you myself!" The growled statement told me not to look in the direction of the garrison bridge, but true to my rebellious nature, I did anyway. What I saw was not a pretty sight. A centaur encircled with chunks of earth, no doubt an Elementalist, was galloping frighteningly fast up to the archway. My eyes went wide.

Well, crap. Didn't _that_ look absolutely charming…?

Regardless of my gut telling me to run the other way, I charged with my daggers, leaping and slicing, "Take down their leader!" I wanted to gape in exasperation at Thackeray. Like he _really_ needed to say that when the thing was ominously charging _right at us_? Captain Thackeray – ha! Captain _Obvious_…

All too suddenly, it felt like I'd been skewered by one of Alduin's horns. I flew back a good ten feet, landing next to the dead body of the Necromancer (I didn't know whether to stare or laugh at this) woman who'd helped me on the bridge. I sent a silent prayer to Arkay to welcome her and the Engineer's souls into Aetherius, regardless of if they'd believed in Tyria's gods or not before pushing myself to my feet and taking off after the magic-wielding centaur.

"Pitiful humans!" it sneered, galloping down the bridge with probably a good twenty of said humans charging after it, "You think you can defeat me?" I was beginning to have flashbacks of Alduin and Sovngarde that were probably better left not remembered…

But they were pissing me off, all the same.

I waved my daggers as I came to a halt just ahead of Captain Thackeray and the rest of the Seraph, "Obviously, you stupid, over-grown horse! What did you think we were doing out here – having a tea party?" It got me a few looks, but what the heck? Insulting the enemy usually never ended well, but it let off some steam.

The sage snarled at me before turning back to the hills that lay beyond the garrison-turned-war grounds, "RISE!" I didn't have time to question just what it was telling to rise before I got my answer. The earth cracked and shuddered, twisting up into two formations I assumed were meant to be hands that shot some sort of energy into the sky. I couldn't really make much of it other than it was bad and that I was severely regretting my decision to offer my help and not stay at the inn. My jaw was nearly on the ground and the previously tight grip that I had on my daggers only got tighter.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one shocked, "By all six gods, what is that thing? It's huge!" I was too busy gaping at the two elemental hands practically radiating magika to care about the woman's remark about her gods.

"That, soldier, is a threat!" Thackeray proclaimed as fearlessly as it seemed he could, earning my respect in the fact that he stood strong for his subordinates as to bolster their courage. "We're going to take it down. Forward!" The sage gave a final cackle as it charged away to safety, like a coward. I grimaced, sheathing my copper dagger and pulling Keening from where I'd hidden it amongst the black/gray outfit I wore. If I was right, I'd need the ancient tool of Kagrenac. At the moment, daggers were the strongest weapons I had on me aside from my magic, and as my daggers were strange enough and drew more than their fair share of attention, I wasn't about to risk more by using spells. My fingers caressed he hilt of the Dwemer blade almost lovingly, remembering when I'd retrieved it for Enthir. I'd been helping Arniel Gane of the College of Winterhold in some form of an attempt to pay back the favor the College had done by pointing me in the direction of Septimus Signus when I needed the Elder Scroll.

"For the queen!" Thackeray's shout as he ran past me brought me out of my reminiscing and caused me to run after him, "CHARGE!" The other Seraph wasted no time in rushing towards the elemental hands in what would surely amount as a suicide mission. A part of me wondered, too, why I was doing the exact same thing, but I knew why. My damned hero complex wouldn't just take a hint and shut up and leave me alone. Keening and my Dragonbone friend twirled and slashed at the rock of the hand on the right, driving the thing down rapidly thanks to the enchantment on the Dwarven blade. Behind me, Thackeray was shouting something about rallying to him if injured, and I dully noted it. I dodged boulders as I worked, hacking and slashing and cutting merrily, barely noticing the gash in my side that was oozing blood and unable to clot due to my constant movement. Funny how I hadn't noticed it before…

Lady Luck apparently decided to abandon me at that particular moment in time, because I didn't see a rock coming at me until it was too late. I yelped as it knocked me off my feet.

It. Freaking. HURT.

My head bounced on the soil, the rest of me following shortly and causing pain to erupt from just about every joint and limb down to the bone. Once I'd dazedly managed to skid to a stop, I blinked my poison green eyes open. I felt the gash I'd freshly noted closing up and the honest-to-the-almighty-nine smell of _restoration magic_ encasing me. The purple-blue hue blurring above me was undoubtedly something to do with Thackeray and his strange guardian magic, but no complaints crossed my lips as I tried to regain my bearings. It was the closest to an actual healing spell I'd encountered so far, and I was thankful for it regardless of what color it was. Even though it was clearing, the concussion I had from hitting my head on soil was very obvious by the way it made the sky spin in not-so-jovial circles.

Hands on my shoulders hoisted me up to my feet a time before the world stopped spinning, but I found that I didn't have the strength back quite yet to protest as a wave of nausea passed over me briefly, "Steady now. What's your name?" I shook my head in an attempt to help the Seraph captain's healing bubble, for all intents and purposes, clear the concussion aching away to a dull throb.

"Vienele," I managed to murmur to Thackeray as my wounds finished closing and my headache abated completely, "Vienele Valtieri. Bah! I knew there was a reason me and boulders never got along well."

He let out a small grin at that, "Get ready, Miss Valtieri. I don't think this thing can last much longer." The smirk coating my own face was really unavoidable. I gave a sloppy, mock salute before slightly crouching, ready to dash ahead to scout out my fallen weapons.

"It's Vienele, captain," I chirped, "And I owe you one, so I think I'll go back to finding my daggers and commence hacking at stone." Before I could charge off, however, the final hand shattered and the column of light began glowing brighter. I tensed, whirling my eyes towards the spectacle. Damn! I felt for the lone Dragon Priest dagger that was thankfully still sheathed at my hip and waited with bated breath. Keening and my Dragonbone weapon be damned, this did _not look good_…

Unfortunately, Captain Thackeray seemed to need to reinforce my fears by shouting out in warning to the rest of the Seraph and the singular (or, perhaps not singular as he'd managed to duplicate himself multiple times) Mesmer fighting amongst us, "It's not dead yet! Brace yourselves; I think it's going to explode!"

And with a violent outburst of bright light and falling debris, a blow to the head rendered me unconscious, and this time, there wasn't a Seraph Guardian to stop it.

* * *

Final Words: Well, there ya' go. It's not the best, but I tried. I plan to not have a lot of time to work on his (as I'm typing this, I should be doing a geometry project that I'm procrastinating horribly on) because of schoolwork and the upcoming holiday (woot! Christmas! I love Christmas!). I have to help a one-armed blind man (my siblings' father) bake, so that'll keep me busy for a while.

Well, you all should know the drill by now. R&R!

~ZealousPhoenix


	2. Chapter 2

_**Against the**_****_**Clock**_

By: ZealousPhoenix245

Disclaimer: I don't own GW2 or TES V: Skyrim. All rights go to their respective peoples.

Quick Author's Note: Snow...bleh...

Sorry if this seems dragging. I tried, but I guess you could say that about halfway through, I was only writing it out of boredom and absolutely nothing else to do...and I was texting my friend at the same time...sooooo...

Well, enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 2

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the dull throbbing behind my eyes and the searing light that invaded my lids. My throat was rough and dry, that was the second thing I noticed, and the stench of herbs wafted to me after another moment. The sounds of priests and priestesses murmuring prayers to Dwayna flooded my ears. I sent one of my own to Kynareth asking why in the nine holds she'd stuck me with these heretics, but my body was in too much residual pain to comment on it. I made a mental note to cast a few restoration spells on myself later and see what I could scrounge up to create a few emergency health potions (which reminded me - did they even _have_ Blisterwort and Monarch Butterfly Wings here?). I was going to take precautions to assure that I didn't have to come near these so-called healers and their herbs and blasphemous goddess if I had any say in the matter.

"Lorkhan's eyes," I groaned, forcing myself in a sitting position, "what in blazes hit me?" The bedroll that I was laying on was probably the source of my stiff back and the pillow, if it could be called such, hadn't done its job as well as it should have. I glared down at both of them with distaste. The moment I looked up a blue robe flooded my vision before a dusky-skinned priestess knelt before me. I noticed that her eyes were rather puffy as she began checking me over, as if she'd been crying…or it was the pungent fumes of useless herbs making her eyes water. Either was quite possible.

She elaborated, "You were injured when the elemental exploded. Captain Thackeray brought you here personally. He said these were yours; by the way, though I can't say I've ever seen daggers quite like that." I groaned internally as the priestess handed me Keening and my bronze and bone blades. It was bad enough I owed the Seraph for all but saving my life – now I owed that debt twice over and the fact that he'd thought to find the weapons separated from me by the elemental. Not to mention, it was bad enough that the guy was the Seraph _captain_…

While I mentally (and possibly dementedly) ranted about good-for-nothing do-gooders who constantly seemed to make me owe them, the robed woman kept on talking, "You've been unconscious for three days. You had lots of visitors: villagers you rescued, some Seraph, and even a tavern keeper from the city and his daughter. She came by every day."

My eyes rolled of almost their own accord, "If she was so blond it's a crime and he looked like he'd eaten about ten too many sweetrolls, they're my friends, Andrew and Petra. I'll have to pay them a visit. Any idea when I can get outta' here?"

The priestess gave a small, wary smile like she didn't know how exactly to respond to my words, "Today, I'd suppose. Pardon me, but I've never heard someone speak so…rudely about ones deemed a friend…" I blinked up at her incredulously. Had these people never heard of a little thing called friendly banter? By the nine, were they living more in the dark ages than Nirn?

"I say it with love," I shrugged innocently.

I received a shake of the head, "Well, fresh air and exercise can be the best medicine. The goddess Dwayna helped you…perhaps you could help others? There's plenty to do out in the valley while you recover your strength, and the villagers would surely appreciate the help." I frowned. Even thinking of the name "Dwayna" left a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Maybe I will," I replied belatedly, deadpanning, "thank you, for your…_help_." I didn't even wait for her to reply before I'd grasped the daggers, strapped them to their usual spots on my person, and briskly walked out into the cool summer (or, what I presumed to be summer – I was still trying to match Tyria's calendar to Nirn's) air of Shaemoor village before anyone could stop me. Though the scent of cooking fires from the inn overpowered the smell of the river running through the small little hamlet, it didn't stop it from being apparent that Shaemoor relied on fishing as much as it did agriculture. Something foul also carried on the wind, making me momentarily think of Mudcrabs. I dismissed the thought as soon as it came. There were no Mudcrabs in Kryta. They didn't even exist in Tyria, for that matter.

Cue that blasted homesickness again.

Instead of heading off to see if any of the farmers or other villagers needed assistance, I made a sharp turn right off of the path towards Divinity's Reach. I wasn't going to waste my time trying to help people any more than I already had. I may have protected the garrison with the Seraph, but I was quick to remind myself that I'd only done it so I still had valuables left to rob later. If I would've let the Centaurs pillage everything, where would the fun in that be?

My hero days were over, killed along with Miraak. And I didn't plan on going back to them any time soon.

The doors to the Krytan capitol were gigantic. They made the gates to the Imperial City look like twigs, and the sheer height of the buildings was absolutely staggering. I couldn't even see to the top if I craned my neck and strained my eyes. And I had good eyesight, so that was saying something. The wooden doors barring entrance to Divinity's Reach were reinforced with a type of metal (I couldn't discern whether or not it was iron or steel, but I was betting on the former), but that wasn't all that was keeping unwanted visitors out. Though retracted, I could tell that the tips of bars just in front of the wood were not for show. In truth, I thought it a bit ridiculous. Wanting to protect the capitol of the only remaining human nation was perfectly understandable, as the _monarch_ of said nation was housed within, but the bars seemed to be slightly overkill.

Then again, the charr mercenary I'd almost tried to pickpocket a few months ago made me rethink that assumption. Their horns could probably cut through a well-made set of Daedric armor.

Okay, I was exaggerating, but still. They were as intimidating as a sabre cat caught in the rain.

Divinity's Reach itself seemed about the size of Blackreach, or at least close to it. In any case, it was enormous compared to Solitude, and the capital of Skyrim was definitely not a city to be laughed at. The walls towered over people and the gardens in the center were an Alchemist's dream. I hadn't seen Queen Jennah's throne room or any of the military headquarters, but if the architecture of the city spoke for anything, which I was sure that it did, they were surely as grand as the capital of Alinor.

As I walked, I struggled to keep my eyes on where I was going. Even after months of calling this enormous city my home, I couldn't help but be struck by its grandeur every time my gaze scanned over the stone. People bustled around circus stalls in the cobblestone streets, passing by each other with kind words as the acrobatic merchants attempted to sell their wares. I couldn't help the feeling of peace swell over me. Back in Skyrim and even in Cyrodiil where the people were that much more hospitable, it was impossible to walk through the streets without so much as glares from at least a few people whose days had been less than sour. The consideration of people towards others was so much…greater in Tyria than it was in Nirn, and it was quite the refreshing change.

Within only a few moments of wandering my way through the enormous city, I found myself crossing the threshold into the Salma District. I smiled at the sight of the vendors in the plaza, but quickly frowned when I caught a flash of black and red amongst the minute crowds lining the streets. My mind retracted back to the few Dark Brotherhood assassins that had been sent after me through the years. Black and red…but it couldn't have been the Brotherhood. And I only knew one type of person in the area of Divinity's Reach that wore those two colors…

Bandits. "Organized" (because, honestly, they tended to be loosely so) criminals.

I grit my teeth, spotting a well-dressed yet still minutely intimidating man that I'd heard locals and Petra call Uptown Johnny. A sour look crossed my face, and I pulled my hood farther down to shadow my eyes. This was just wonderful. I'd just woken up, was still marginally injured, and would probably have to break up a few bar fights in an atmosphere where any calm spells would be too easily pinpointed. At least, that was what I figured considering that mead-plus-bandits did NOT equal a peaceful evening and that drew attention.

As if to prove my point, the moment I walked through the doors to Andrew's inn, the reeking stench of alcohol made me scrunch my nose in disgust. I'd never understood how people could enjoy that stuff… There was a crowd of bandits infesting just about every corner of the building that held more integrity than these half-brained s'wits had mustered in their miserable lifetimes.

I caught sight of a patch of bright blond, pigtailed hair in on the far side of the open dining area and began to head towards it, but I quickly had my ribs (two of which, I realized then, were still bruised pretty good – useless priestesses)flair in agony when an elbow bludgeoned them. The breath rushed out of me. Wheezing, I fought admirably to keep my composure, only allowing a small wince as I rubbed the offending area of my side even though I wanted to curl up in a fetal position and cry foul. I glared up through my lashes and just past the rim of my cowl at the hulking brute of a man who had run into me.

Just as I opened my mouth to tell him to watch where he was going, the idiot had the audacity to beat me to it, "Hey, watch it! You almost spilled my drink, and I almost had to mop it up with your face." Big Nose Ted, I recognized almost instantly from the descriptions I'd received from Petra. Cropped black hair, permanent scowl, almost permanent drink in his hand, red and black outfit, head way too small for the rest of him…yep.

By the time I'd managed to stuff down the innate urge to Shout him into Oblivion to meet his maker (because anything _that_ malformed _had_ to be a creation of Vaermina or Peryite…probably Vaermina), Big Nose Ted had walked (or, perhaps it was more of a stumble – I couldn't be sure, but considering how wasted he seemed, it was rather likely) over to where a few of his buddies were situated at a table, toasting overflowing tankards of frothing ale. A sneer crossed my face before I continued walking. If Ted had been born into Nirn, I had a distinct feeling that he would've been born a Nord.

Or an Orc. Nothing against the Orsimer (because, honestly, some of them were quite pretty if you ignored the tusks) but _yikes_ could that guy give the worst of them a run for their Septims...

Petra noticed me almost immediately, bounding over and latching onto my neck in a hug before I could protest otherwise, "Vi! I'm so glad to see you! I heard that you were up and around, but I was still worried." I was finally released and my lungs were gifted the sweet, sweet air that they had been denied from her embrace.

"I'm fine," was my reply after a moment, a small smile prompting from beneath my hood. "Thanks for coming to see me. You know I love you and your father to bits, but you guys worry too much."

Petra gave a stern glare, "That's because you take too many risks, and this only proved it." I was puzzled.

"Risks?"

The blond nodded furiously, but Andrew cut in from where he was cleaning out a mug with an old rag behind the bar, "Your little walks in the middle of the night, kid. There _is_ that thief running around. You could happen by the wrong person one of these days and get a knife across your throat." I fought the bright flush that wanted to coat my cheeks and the fidgeting that my limbs instinctively wanted to settle into. Also being held back was the desire to blurt something having to do with the fact that thieves didn't kill…

My hand scratched the back of my head, "Ehehe, yeah…there's that…" Well, I suppose sneaking past guards who could and probably would decapitate me, an actually pretty renowned thief, in a second could be labeled as a _risk_…

…but they didn't need to know that…

Petra got this gleam in her eyes like she was going to tell me something interesting (for her – it never ended up being reciprocated in any way other than me nodding dumbly), when a shout broke out from the table I'd seen Big Nose Ted stumble over to, "Hey! Girl! Stop gabbing and bring me a drink!" I threw a glare over my shoulder. Speak of the Daedra spawn and it shall…speak… Petra gasped in indignation, ready to spew something that would've most likely gotten her hit when Andrew, bless his soul, came to the rescue.

The tavernkeeper set the mug down he'd been polishing, throwing the rag over his shoulder and pointing a beefy finger at the criminal, "I think you've had enough, buddy. You're cut off." He made a sweeping motion with his hand towards the door, glaring impressively intimidatingly for an overweight old guy.

I had to applaud the attempt, because what followed wasn't something Andrew was able to deal with…by a long shot.

"Now get out of my tavern."

If Ted's face was already red, then the anger flushing it now put Odahviing's scales to shame with its intensity. The thug was quick to get into Andrew's face, but a glance from my friend told me to stay out of it until it turned violent.

"Don't make me cripple you, old man," Ted snarled, looking quite like a rabid bear with its salmon stolen from under its nose. "Give me more ale, and this time, it's on the house." Beside me, Petra bristled, huffing angrily and balling up her fists. I gave her a warning glare.

"Petra…," I said hesitantly, reaching for her arm, but to no avail. I admired her courage and protectiveness, but she couldn't keep her mouth shut. I winced.

"Leave my father alone, you ugly goon!" My eyes widened – that was gutsy, "or I'll call the Seraph." They widened more. Damn it, hadn't I had enough dealings with the Seraph lately? It was getting a tad bit ridiculous, and I _really_ didn't need to owe Thackeray any more than I already did.

Unfortunately as I'd suspected, Big Nose Ted didn't brush the insult off and snarled again, grasping a blade at his waist. My brow furrowed as I shifted slightly as to have better access to my daggers, ribs groaning in an ignored protest. He had a giant warhammer (solidifying my idea that he would've been a Nord had he been Nirn-born). Why was he going for the knife…unless…

My eyes widened, "Andrew, Petra, MOVE - !" My warning didn't come in time. The short blade of steel was out of the flimsy sheath before my words could register in the tavernkeeper or blonde's minds. A heartbeat later and Andrew was falling backwards, bleeding, five-inch long gash across his abdomen that was already beginning to froth. Poison.

Chaos erupted as the bandit leader cried, "Ugly? I'll show you ugly, honey!" His words only barely registered in my mind. Quicker than a sabre cat, Keening was drawn and blocking Ted from the lunge at Petra, who was still stunned at the sight of her father slowly bleeding out from a poisoned wound. Using what leverage I could get under the sheer pressure (and thankfully having more than a few experiences with foes seriously outclassing me in strength), I pushed the blade back and tackled Petra to the ground under the cover of the bar as a gun went off.

"Get over to your father and _stay down_," I yelled over the ensuing screeching of steel blades on steel and gunshots. "I'll deal with this mess. Just help him, and, for the love of Mara, stay put!" The blond could only nod shakily; beginning to put pressure on Andrew's wound. I cast my friends a sad look, wishing I could help but understanding full well that I had other, slightly more pressing issues on my hands.

So, I popped out from behind the bar, tucking into a somersault and landing in a crouch in front of Uptown Johnny. I didn't miss that Ted had raced towards the stairs and away from the carnage the minute an opening had presented itself. The coward. I drew my Dragonbone dagger, springing up with the momentum of my roll and non-fatally (though I _really_ wanted to do the opposite, I felt the goons aside from Ted deserved to rot in a jail cell for a very, very long time) slashing the classy bandit across the abdomen. It wasn't enough to kill, just incapacitate. In my time as a thief, I'd become pressured into being good at that. I could probably recite Brynjolf's displeased shpeal on the morals behind why we didn't kill word for word.

Shocked, Uptown Johnny crumpled to the ground, wheezing something about yielding. I kept my face grim, fighting to stay in control as my ribs began protesting again violently. My stomach churned from the pain and I found myself immensely grateful for the fact that I had yet to consume any type of food or, gods forbid, a potion. Those never did taste good the first time, much less a second time around.

Before I could end up with a bullet in my back or a claymore at my throat, I spotted another bandit, Blaize, I believe, and with a smart flick of my wrist, the bronze Dragon Priest Dagger gave him a nice little through-and-through on the back of his knee. I heard an agonizing scream that really didn't sound like it came from a guy, causing me to smirk sadistically in satisfaction. He wouldn't be using that leg anytime soon. My reward ended up being a glare over his shoulder, and my grin dropped slightly at the sight of him. Blaize looked a lot like…

No. I shook the thoughts from my head. He was dead. It was impossible.

Breaking out of my musings, I heard Ted yell out from somewhere around the inn's stairs, something about retreating, but I ignored it in favor of sweeping the feet out from under a nearby thug. I grunted when the move succeeded, but at the price of comfort in my ribcage being torn apart by hundreds of hungry, gnawing little sabre cat cubs.

Wait…that would just be adorable. Never mind.

Quickly, Keening found itself embedded in an Engineer bandit's stomach, shallow enough to refrain from demise, but deep enough that the pain was incapacitating. I grinned at my handy work before giving a sarcastic wave and racing up the stairs to the inn towards where Big Nose Ted had gone. A few do-gooders and Seraph had shown up at the scene and had the main tavern situation under control.

However, I had a score to settle. A major one.

In my rush to get to Ted, I didn't even notice when I passed by a bandit and flung my bone dagger out and very nearly decapitated the woman. A few shrieks rang out that I didn't pay attention to. I was familiar with this animalistic desire to eliminate my target, my prey. The Dragonblood was boiling through my veins. That annoyingly familiar swelling in my chest began, and I knew for a fact that if I tried to even so much as murmur I was liable to bring the inn down. If there was one thing that oftentimes was more of a weakness than an asset, it was my Voice. Strong as it was, when my bloodlust got the better of me, I couldn't control it.

Perhaps I should've listened more to Arngeir and Paarthurnax when they tried to teach me how to meditate on the Words…

When I got to the second set of stairs leading up to the third floor, a bullet grazed my upper right arm. I dropped the white dagger in my left hand to grasp at the wound with an inaudible grunt of pain. The woman standing on the landing was pointing a smoking pistol at me, grinning proudly and causing me to scowl dangerously. An Engineer; how lovely.

And I used to think that _archers_ were annoying.

But, alas, I was too quick for her. Once I was close enough, making quick work of her was almost too easy. I slammed the pronged hilt of Keening at her temple and she dropped like a rock.

"Hold steady, damn it!" I heard Big Nose Ted yell from up the stairs. My gaze darkened, adrenaline coursing through my veins and causing me to have the innate urge to raze everything I could to the ground. Regardless of the temptation to follow the inborn nature, I recalled Paarthurnax's rhetorical question about overcoming one's evil nature through great determination and stuffed it down. Get Ted and be done with it. That was my goal and I was going to stick to it.

Doubling back, I snatched up my dropped blade before bounding up the stairs. Ted had retreated like the coward he was to the back of the room, wielding the warhammer with a sloppy form and shaking hands. I nearly scoffed when I was met with another one of his underlings. In my bloodlust, I heard the new thug cry something about "Mists" and "Twitchy Jake" before I was parrying a set of cheap-looking iron daggers. My brow deadpanned. These guys were _bandits_. Couldn't they just _steal_ better equipment?

I sidestepped a slash, bringing my bone blade around and smacking the masked bandit in the temple like I'd done with the woman. If I'd thought Ted looked scared before, his expression quickly turned even more so. Where he gripped the handle of the warhammer, his knuckles were white with the strain and there was sweat dotting his brow.

Though, I quickly found that just because his form was sloppy and nervous didn't mean by a long shot that he didn't know how to use his weapon.

"Let's play 'Who can hit the hardest?' I'll go first!" I barely rolled out of the way with blinding protest from my bruised ribs when the hammer was swung downwards at me. The wooden floor gave a loud groan and an ominous creak under the immense force. I grit my teeth. There was no way that my small blades could parry that, and Unrelenting Force to stumble him was certainly out of the question. There was no way I could pass it off as the bandit leader stumbling due to the annoyingly obvious blue energy that was always exhaled with the Words.

So, I'd have to improvise.

Using my acrobatics training again to my advantage, I flipped backwards a few times to gain some distance. The flurry of movement made my face unreadable under the cowl, and I smirked. Perfect.

"Zun!" Even though it was only half-whispered, the ground still trembled in anticipation. Soon enough, the earth stilled, and Ted dropped his weapon with a hiss of pain. His hands were burnt. A smirk dusted my face, emerald eyes taking in my handiwork for only the barest of moments before the hilt of my blade made contact with the back of my opponent's head. Not having a chance to react due to the sudden shock of his weapon being unnaturally torn from him, Ted dropped.

I glanced around habitually for another possible opponent. Finding none to my satisfaction, I sheathed my blades, hand reaching up to grasp at the wound on my arm that wasn't able to clot due to the extensive movement that I'd subjected it to and headed back down to the bar to check on Andrew and Petra. From the noise, it seemed that the fight had stopped.

What I didn't expect, however, was to reach the bottom floor to have a plethora of guardsmen (Ministry Guard, if I wasn't mistaken by the color red permeating the fabrics of their armor) being led by a dark-skinned, Redguard-esque woman with long hair and a glare capable of piercing a Charus shell.

Well, damn.

"Bandits, thieves, and brawlers!" Was it just me, or did she let her eyes stray towards me when she said the second word? "By order of the Ministry Guard, you're all under arrest!" I was outraged. Coolly, the audacious woman allowed her eyes to threateningly scan the civilians who had decided to be good Samaritans. I bristled.

"Hey!" I yelped, waving a hand at a few fallen and/or unconscious bandits littering the floor after calming my blood enough so that speaking wouldn't be too dangerous, "they started it! I was just defending my friends, and those guys decided to help make sure no one else was hurt who didn't deserve to be! You can't threaten them, lady, it was self-defense!"

The woman sniffed indigenously, looking down her nose at me, "Multitudes of people are injured and one is _dead_. Nearly decapitated, might I add. This clearly constitutes legal action – who are you to question the Ministry Guard?"

"The one who nearly decapitated the woman who was stupid enough to threaten my friends and get in my way," I growled, crossing my arms despite the fact that, not only were my wounds aching freshly, but my joints were screaming from excessive movement after a few days without any at all. My emerald eyes were as hard as the gems for which they tended to represent. "If you want to punish someone for this mess, blame me. Not the civilians who honestly had no part in this." Her dark eyes widened before narrowing once again in a low glower.

"By order of the Ministry Guard, you're under arrest for murd - !"

"Commander Serentine!" Oh, sweet Talos – I never thought I'd be grateful, if not a bit shocked, to see Captain Thackeray's form entering the door to the Inn. "What's the meaning of this? What are you doing here?" The Guardian spared me a glance and a courteous nod of recognition, which I returned with one of my own in gratitude once I was sure the Slaughterfish of a Commander wasn't paying attention to me any longer.

Serentine rolled her eyes, "Nice of you to show up, Captain. I'm here keeping the peace – something you and your Seraph can't seem to do." My brow quirked unbidden. Bad blood between militant branches, was it?

Thackeray was irked, that much was obvious by the way he crossed his arms and garnered a scowl on his face, "Thanks to _your_ interference. There's no way I'm letting you take the hero who fought beside me at Shaemoor Garrison. I'll vouch for Miss Valtieri." He jerked his head in my direction, and I couldn't help the smug grin that crossed my face. A hand arbitrarily found its way to my hip.

"And since Captain Thackeray is vouching for me, I have to point out that I'll vouch for these guys," I chimed with sickly sweet glee, pointing in turn to the civilians who were battered and bruised along the far wall. "So, you can take these bandits and scurry right along, Commander. Oh, and don't forget the three that I knocked out upstairs. Be careful if that leader fella' wakes up. He might be crying some nonsense for a while about his hammer burning him. Can't say I know what happened exactly, but his hands were pretty red." If looks could shoot knives, I'd have been dead the minute I started speaking. Boy, was this _fun_ considering no repercussions could ensue! And despite the fact that lies were slipping past my lips in a practiced ease I'd always held distaste for, the reaction from the military leader was absolutely worth it.

I was pretty sure her face was red by now, "Fine, commoner, Capitan. Have it your way, but know I will not forget this. Guards! Take the rest of these maggots to the prisons. We're done here." She gave a flick of her hand and the minions behind her scurried to work. A sense of déjà vu hit me and I blurted out my next sentence without thinking.

"Are you at all related to a Maven Black-Briar, by any chance?"

This earned me a grimacing look, "Who?" I deadpanned. For a moment, I'd forgotten that this was another world.

"Oh, no one," I shrugged, "You just remind me of a very bitchy matriarch I used to know…"

Serentine bristled, not replying and only turning on her heel and stomping out of the inn. A grin blossomed on my face in a swelling sense of self-confidence. Success!

Captain Thackeray raised an amused eyebrow in my direction, "That was risky. Amusing, but risky." I blinked.

"I don't do well with people telling me what I can and cannot do based on their moral code, which is usually polar opposites of my own, is right or wrong."

The Seraph captain opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when an overly energetic blond tackled me from behind, "Vi! You're okay, thank the gods! That was awesome, what you did with the somersault and the lunging and the daggers! Oh! Captain Thackeray!" A strangled cry tore unbidden from my throat when my ribs were jostled harshly, sounding about as half muffled as I'd managed to make it. Thackeray and Petra turned their attention to me harshly as I crumpled to my knees, the gasps I was breathing in an attempt to settle the nausea only making the pain worse.

The two kneeled down in front of me immediately, "What's wrong?" There was a pregnant pause as I waited for the pain to subside enough to concentrate on words. Thankfully, it did, and I let out a shaky breath.

"Ribs," I winced, "two were still bruised – actually, I'm thinking they're broken now. They're at least cracked a good one. You just jostled them a bit, Petra; I'll be fine." I got two concerned looks, but Petra's didn't last long and she quickly began hounding the poor Seraph captain about if he could do anything for Andrew. I sighed. Something told me that, even injured, there was still more for me to do.

…Wonderful…

* * *

Final Words: Alrighty! Sorry if the ending seemed kinda rushed, but I'm reeeeaaaaally tired right now. I'm lucky I wrote as much as I did...

Well, you know the drill. R&R!

~ZealousPhoenix


End file.
